2013.09.07 - Breaking the Argus, Part 1
It's been weeks since Mystique infiltrated the Helicarrier. Weeks of very careful operation, watching and listening everything that she can while moving her numerous plans forward. Even then she's had a few close calls. She's dealing with the very heart and soul of one of the planet's most dedicated, and well funded, operations. Eventually someone caught something that didn't seem quite right, some tiny piece within the giant machine that looks as though it had been tampered with. There's two ways she could proceed. She could wait it out and leave quietly, working out a transfer for her guise, Sarah Hayes. Or, she could do one final clean sweep of the place. The only way out is through. If she's going to bail on this op anytime soon then she has to take the first step. Whoever would have thought that the first step would take place in the men's bathroom? To be fair there's more running behind the scenes, a few select terminals within the Helicarrier's network have been compromised. Jeffers in particular, if he lives through this he's going to be in a very bad place. Ty is going to be even worse off than his buddy. She's memorized their schedules and their daily rotations. That's why Ty looks a little surprised when Jeffers steps into the bathroom. "Thought you had your practice today?" "Williams has the room reserved today." "That sucks," Ty says by way of sympathy (of a sort) while standing in front of a urinal. A moment later they're standing side by side, each with a sink of their own. Jeffers is next to speak. "Hey man. Almost forgot. The other day I found something out about that Hayes?" "Yeah?" Jeffers becomes a blur of motion, sweeping one of Ty's feet out from beneath him before grabbing the back of his head and ramming his face down against the edge of the stainless sink. In another instant he's on the floor, blood pooling out from his forehead. "Bitch ain't even human." Eyes only. Director Nick Fury's been keeping close tabs on the affairs in Genosha. Very close. He's got operatives in. He's got moles. He's got obvious boots on the ground. And information is trickling out. Useful information. Names keep rising to the surface with each report. Kwabena Odame. One of Harper's contacts. Kurt Wagner. Little bit of digging. Wanted by Interpol. "Sullivan." "Yes sir?" comes a voice from an intercom buried somewhere in the Director's desk. Lighting a cigar, Nick stares at a piece of paper on his desk, and pulls on tobacco until satisfied with the smoke. "Send a team to pull a mutant named Kurt Wagner in for questioning. Mutant task force. Priority One." The team has a copy of the blue-boy's folder, such as it is. "Yes sir." Leaning back in his seat, Nick holds the cigar in hand, but this is a day when the over-sized cancer stick will be finished. "And I want Harper's orders cut. He's got to find his buddy. He'll know who." Seems that everyone is looking for Odame. Guy picked his name right. Shift. It's that last bit, however, that does cause Fury to stare. Mystique. Metamorph. Surely Wolverine ... no. No word where she could be. It's true, the words on the sheet from an operative. Mutants are cagey. Ultimately, when it comes down, they don't give a damn about America, the one country that doesn't hunt them down (necessarily) for the fact they're mutants. They have more rights here than anywhere else in the damned world! It's all about 'mutants' and that gene. Where is the metamorph? "Sullivan!" Fury's voice virtually booms through the intercom to the desk. "Yessir?" "We're going to do a shut down and a restart sequence for our intranet. Notify the admins that I want this done in 30 minutes." Which means the shutdown sequence begins... and eventually, new passwords. Protocols replaced. "Yessir." Timing is everything. Back from her own brief tour of Genosha -- and the US carrier group off the island's coast -- Kit Lindstrom unsnaps the restraints in her cockpit and climbs down onto the deck. "Hey, Major," one of the deckhands greets her. "Welcome home." "Thanks, Skeet," the blonde replies, giving the man a light wave of greeting. "Get 'er fueled back up, will you? I intend to fly 'er back when I'm done with the Director." "You got it." Kit flashes him a smile and starts in for the lift. She's got an intel packet of her own with her, evidently of the sort you don't just randomly transmit, since she's flown all the way across the Atlantic to deliver it in person. Arrogance. It comes with power, with decades of always being victorious, of always being right. Mystique is an arrogant mutant bitch and she's not afraid to let it show. That's why Jeffers steps out of the bathroom with a bounce in his step, whistling a merry little tune. It draws a glance here and there but he seems completely oblivious to the whole exchange. He's in his own little world. Then he stops beside a clock on the wall, glancing down to the one on his wrist as if to make sure they're running in synch. A moment later he's looking back up, past the clock, grinning into one of the security cameras. His other hand comes up, two fingers pointing in the shape of a pistol as he mouthes the word 'bang.' That's when the first explosion rings out from deeper within the Helicarrier. Vibrations can be felt all throughout its metal-skinned hull, setting off a klaxon in the distance. Jeffers stands up straight and continues along, looking like he just inherited the world. The system reboot, that will put a dent in her plans. The fact that Fury's attention is now on Nightcrawler... That's something she intends to change. If SHIELD needs a mutant to chase then let them come after the best. If they dare. "Jeffers--! There's an emergency, we've gotta--" CRACK! One more agent of SHIELD lies in a broken mess upon the floor, more than a little concussed. By the time Jeffers passes through the next hatch he's suddenly become Sarah Hayes, morphing at a point where the cameras are all blind. Or so Mystique believes. Onto the armory, then! The message thus relayed, Nick spins his chair a quarter turn to look at his screen. His log in is quick and painless, even if it's a 16 digit alpha-numeric character set. It's a pain in the ass, but it can't be helped. Quick check with the NSA to expedite some clearances, and they'll be up and running in no-- BOOM!! Carriers can feel waves on an ocean, even though it's 5 acres worth of space. A helicarrier in flight? Vibrations are a hint that all is not right. The klaxons, however, confirm it. Static comes over the radio now, and there are voices calling out. Over and over, the location is listed. Gaining his feet, it looks as if the cigar won't be finished after all. Dammit. Reaching into his desk, he grabs his sidearm, and sets the holster. Already, he knows there are teams headed out. "Sir." There comes on the screen one of the system admins. "Sir... I have something you may want to see." Fury turns back around to his desk; he doesn't look in any mood to play at the moment, and his voice is a growl. "Better be damned good." "I have a report for you-" "On my desk." "No sir. This one has incursions marked all over it." Pausing, his one good eye narrows as he considers. "Data mined?" "Don't know sir. Still tracking." Fury ignores that now, and instead bellows, even as he leaves his office, "Sullivan! Black Four on the double. And Mutant Ops on call." Time to bring out the big guns. And there, recorded for posterity (and not yet viewed)...? The picture of an Intel agent mugging it for the camera. Lindstrom is in the lift when the explosion hits. On its high-tensile cables, the car shudders and the woman braces herself instinctively against the walls. Immediately, she checks her weapon and keys up her com to listen to the onboard response. Lights turn red. Klaxons sound. The lift arrives at the same floor as the director's office, which means Kit is stepping out of it at the same time Fury is is moving like a freight train out of his office. "Sir!" she greets him, falling in step beside him. "Where's the hot zone?" She can guess what's happened after all. But, having just set boots down on the carrier, she's still getting up to speed. Good thing she's a quick study. People running. Running all over the place. One of the people now running? Sarah Hayes. Another face in a SHIELD uniform, lost within the crowd. She's making good time now that everyone else is scurrying to their respective holes. Something clearly isn't right with the Argus, but what is it? Malfunction? Surely it can't be an attack from the inside... If only they knew what Fury did. There might be a lot more finger-pointing, a lot more blaming of everyone's neighbors. More carefully concealed charges erupt within the elevators and stairwells, meant more to hinder movement and cause damage rather than kill (though they're sure to do their fair share of that as well.) No stairs, no elevators, no way for anyone to move within the carrier. Lindstrom is lucky she got out when she did. The first explosion was little more than a way to stir people into motion, to give her the cover that she needed before springing the carrier-wide trap. The guards outside of the armory are quick to let the metamorph right on in, because who's going to say no to Nick Fury? "Both of you, get to level four, we're under attack!" "But sir--" "You have your orders, now Go!" There goes security detail on the armory. The Director of SHIELD looks at the collection of high-tech weaponry, some designs having never been field-tested before. (I'll take one of these, and one of these, looks quite nasty..oh, two of these!) Alarms blaring, red lights flashing, there stands Mister Fury, covered in advanced weapon designs. Striking a pose from a 1950's pinup calendar, one foot off of the ground, grinning a whimsical little grin with a hand half covering his mouth toward the camera. Does Nick even have to say, 'Major, with me'? Nope. Striding out of his office like a man on a mission (because he is!), Nick begins to fill Kit is as they walk. Stride purposefully. "Irregularities were noticed. Documented. Prepping for a shut down sequence so everyone goes through a check." Because their computers are just -that- good. "Potential data incursions. Won't know until we survey the damage." Speaking of damage? "Blue 4." That idenfies the spot as being of some level required, but thankfully not the highest of security. Admin. And that's where they're headed. Cameras are angled, aimed... and who questions that the Director enters the armory? Not everyone is aware that the man was only recently in his office and making his way down the hall with the Major. But-- The hell? A com is called, and the Director doesn't lose his pace when he answers, "Talk to me." "Sir." The voice seems a little hesitant. "Watson. Did you just leave the armory?" A frown creases his face and Fury begins slowly, "No. I'm in transit to the disturbance." "Oh." Beat. "Because the cameras have you in the armory." Looking at the Major, this information does stop the Director in his tracks. "Shit. We've got a shapechanger." And he's close enough to power that if he hasn't seen her? She's NOT there. Because he sure as hell wasn't there. "On our way!" (Major, with me!) No, Kit doesn't have to be told to go with Nick. She's already assumed that order. She's just a light on weaponry, aside from her sidearm. But, that's never stopped her before. She keeps pace with the tall man generally by lengthening her stride. Fortunately, she doesn't have to run. Not yet, anyway. But her sidearm is in her hands, now, held ready though angled down as they move swiftly through the corridor. Secondary explosions hit, damaging the elevators and she knows just how lucky she was. "Damn..." she breathes. Then, to Nick: "Shapechanger... Did you get my last report? The one that listed Mystique as being away from Genosha over the past little while? Or, at least, no where there that she's been seen..." She has a sinking feeling this could explain that. There's no more hiding now. Not while Mystique's loaded down with firepower. She can still look like a SHIELD operative without blatantly giving herself away, but any hope of using her X-Gene to confuse others has been abandoned. Stealth is quickly getting played out of her hand. In its place is nothing but aggression. Sarah Hayes had been fun to break. Granted, still just an inferior human, but she had some real fight in her, true spirit. Today will be her very last stand. The former woman's troubled past, her rise into SHIELD intel, what would have been her transfer to the Helicarrier above New York, now she's nothing more than a puppet bent on murder and mayhem. The first time Sarah pulls the trigger nothing happens. She pauses and frowns down at the bulky rifle in her hands with a disgruntled sigh. "Sure wish these had come with instruction manuals." She's fussing over switching to a different weapon when someone else spots her. "Hayes! You're not on the assault team!" "Field promotion," Sarah replies in a dark tone, bringing the other weapon to bear. This time pulling the trigger results in a blinding flash of blue/white light, a thunderclap cracking through the metal hallways as the person that had interrupted her gets mostly vaporized where she stood. Game's on now. Mystique has her data. She has her stolen equipment. She has but two things left to do. Find a way out of here, and take the Argus right out of the sky. Order doesn't matter. Fury won't have any trouble locating her now! "Discharge on Level 8." A voice comes over the secure com once again, buzzing in Fury's ear. "Yeah, I did. Didn't think she'd-" Slipping into an office, Fury overrides the system and taps his link, "Send the camera feed to Blue 4-1A." Beat. "--have the--" Beat. "--gumption to try something like this." And after a second, there she is, in all her glory. Sarah Hayes that is not Sarah Hayes. Tapping his mic once again, Fury's tones are of a man holding himself in check. "Black Four. Do not engage. Fall back. Support the mutant team." Who are on their way, thankyouverymuch. Now, Nick shuts the display down, and once again, he's a man on the move. "She's covering her retreat." This doesn't reek of someone who is planning on standing and fighting. No. The explosion wasn't of -too- critical of systems. Enough to catch attention, and he's damned sure she has something to do with it. And being seen? Being out in the open? Or, she's arrogant. Which is a valid option as well. Regardless, now the Director needs to hit an armory, and the walk goes to a jog as he locates one of the 'closets' nearby. His passkey works, and he's gained entrance. One of those handy-dandy repulsors, and one of those fancy tasers... Kit keeps pace with Fury. When he reaches the armory, she's right there with him, loads up on a variety of light-weight weapons she's fairly certain will come in handy. Her technique of choice has always been more of a compromise between speed and security. She can move fast when she has to, but she tends to let the tanks carry the heavy ordnance. She's better off with lighter stuff. She does, however, glance over to him as she slings a high tech rifle over her shoulder. "Got something in the lab that might help, if we pass by it." But only if that detour makes sense. She can easily play without it. If there are any more charges hidden within the carrier they're remaining silent for the moment. The only explosions which follow do so with the deafening crack of a hand-held lightning emitter rifle and the damage which it causes. Some of the less fortunate don't have long to worry about their mistake of trying to engage Hayes. Many more get caught nearby, armor and skin alike suffering from electrical burns. Tiny blue arcs dance across the focusing array atop of Sarah's rifle, various mechanical systems constantly focusing and adjusting for ventilation and point of impact. It's an intelligently designed weapon, turning a very complex matter into a very simple one. At the point of impact more tendrils leap and dance out across the carrier's conductive interior, leaving the path to and from the metamorph littered with high voltage hotspots and charred lines of burnt carbon. Things seem to be going her way until one of those operatives, the men and women she sees as nothing more than pawns, lock down the bulkhead around her. She's fortunate enough to keep away from the trigger and avoid the chance of frying herself. "And someone remembers their training," she says to an empty metal box that used to be a hallway. She has the Argus' floorplan committed to memory. Getting out of here may well lead to a detour but she's confident that she's still got plenty of time. Fury is a fan of the rapid-fire stuff. He really is. But the reality of the situation is that he's more than aware that mutants are notoriously hard to hurt, much less kill. He knows first hand. And who knows what Mystique can really do? As Carmichal had said in his report- Mutants are a secretive bunch. Hell, he's pretty sure that even the mutants themselves have no clue about their depths. So, along with a slug-fest, Nick grabs a set of flash bangs for those yellow eyes of hers, and another high powered taser. "Okay. She's on the move. And I don't see where we can't stop by the lab. Hopefully you've got a few goodies that need testing in there?" Any luck. Tapping his com, Nick barks an order within. "Track the burst. Start closing bulkheads 8A-E." He's assuming she hasn't yet gotten quite that far, seeing as there's some resistance to slow her down. But closing those bulkheads means they can effectively seal off both air and water. And electricity. "Track the com of Sarah Hayes." Doubt that Mystique will be wearing it, and Fury has no desire to talk to Mystique through the ship systems. "Sir. We've tracked her whereabouts and believe we have her pinned to an area." "Great. Flood it with HE." Ether. Won't go explody, which is rather important in a knockout gas when the 'victim' has an electric gun! Kit nods and gives Fury a tight smile. "Of course, I do," she replies. C'mon, boss. It's Lindstrom. As they make their way down the corridor to whatever access may still be open, she primes up the concussion rifle in her hands. Less chance of it blowing holes through bulkheads... but really effective at slamming people back into them. And, you know, if they want to question 'Sarah', later, that might be important. In the lab, however, Kit strides over to the lockup and puts her biometrics into the security lock. The door slides open and she's in, shoving herself into lightweight, cybernetically enhanced body armour and picking up a couple of other toys, one of which is a holo-emitting gauntlet, the other being several attachments to a utility belt. She picks up a sleek, thin black tac vest and tosses it at Fury. "Catch," she tells him. "Hybrid materials. Good against high-end ballistics, energy discharges, and standard edge weaponry." Sarah's plan experiences another hiccup when the very air that she's breathing is threatened. Maybe she can adjust her physiology in order to breathe harmful vapors or survive where others couldn't but oxygen is still important. A system designed to quickly put out fires has no oxygen. She could filter through everything else but without that critical element there's only so much that she can do. In that moment a cocky, confident expression falters slightly. That first glimmer of concern. Did an army of pawns really just corner the queen? The bulkhead doors are too thick for her to slice through. Wolverine himself would probably struggle with it for a time. No side doors for her to manipulate into permitting her access. The com which should have been connected to Hayes is no longer on her person. It's tucked away at her work station. She forgot it while running to the bathroom, honest. Options..are slightly limited, and quickly running out. Mystique can't find a single weak point to go after, it's as if the simpletons had led her right here, setting up the trap in advance. This, it would seem, is checkmate. Or is it? Hayes' green eyes narrow, the last trick up her sleeve morphed right beneath her skin for safe keeping. The only remote charge that she installed. Signals can be traced, but by the time she flips this one that would no longer matter. Kiss one of the Argus' engines goodbye. "Burn in Hell, Fury." If the charges are still there, if the signal gets through, the grand finale may well take the Argus down right on top of Manhattan in an uncontrolled descent like a hawk shot out of the sky. Category:Log